LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



UNITED STATES OP AMERICA. 



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RINGING BALLADS 



INCLUDING 



CURFEW MUST NOT RING TO-NIGHT 



BY 



ROSE HARTWICK THORPE 



;35 




BOSTON 

D LOTHROP COMPANY 

Franklin and Hawley Streets 






Copyright, 1887, by 
D. LOTHROP COMPANY. 



PRESS OF HENRY H. CLARK & CO., SOSTOti. 



TO MY HUSBAND 

THESE BALLADS 

ARE AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 

BY 

THE AUTHOR. 



CO^N^TENTS. 



PAGE 

Preface 11 

Curfew Must Not Eing To-Night 17 

Margaret 23 

The Station Agext's Story ........ 28 

The Red Cross 35 

Down the Track .......... 44 

In the Mining Town .......... 47 

In Answer 50 

The Bridge of San Martin 53 

Thanksgiving Day .......... 58 

The Soldier's Reprieve G2 

The Luck of Muncaster ......... 66 

The Little Bells 72 

Drinking Annie's Tears ......... 77 

A Brave Emperor 81 

The Queen and the Beggar's Child ...... 85 

Love's Avowal 87 

Lost at Sea 89 

V 



vi CONTENTS. 

Kisses 91 

Two Pictures ' . . . 95 

How THE Flowers Came 99 

Eemember the Alamo . 101 

Historical Notes Ill 

The Last Night 114 



IliIiUSTRATIONS. 



/ 
Portrait Rose Hartwick Thorpe Front. 

" With drowsy ripple, glint, and gleam, page 

The bending willows under 13 

" He with steps so slow and weary, she with sunny, floating hair " . .19 

" O THE sea ! THE STORMY, TEMPESTUOUS SEA ! " . 2b '" 

"Each night and morn the torture of suspense and fear combine 
To ROB the aching head of rest, to fill the heart with pain " . . .39 

The Bridge of San Martin 55 ^ 

" Two thousand soldiers came in time 

To STAY THE DoUGLAS SLAUGHTER" 69 

"The LOVELIEST flowers on earth," he said, 

"They bloom by a cottage wall 75 

" We are starving ! bring us bread " 83 

"Over lip and cheek and forehead 

Like a shower caresses fall" 93 

" Come you to worship at our shrine. 

The shrine o' Texas Liberty 1 " 103 



RINGING BALLADS 



(pfREFACE. 

Beside St. Joseph's shalloio stream, 
Whose crystal waters wander, 

With drowsy ripple, glint, and gleam, 
The bending ivilloivs tender, 

In the resplendent tivilight hour. 
When western skies luere golden, 

And solitude held magic potver 
With superstition olden, — 

Just ivhere the glory flushed the stream, 
A shy-faced, sun-hroicn maiden, 

Whose eyes had caught the sunset gleam. 
Whose hands ivere blossom-laden, 

Oft lingered there, ivide boughs beneath. 
The twilight hush around her. 

To cull sweet flowers and iveave a wreath. 
Some day, perchance, to croivn her. 

11 



PREFACE. 

Her blossoms were those sim])le hlooms 
Wliich nature sometimes icedges, 

In crowded places, Tnid the glooms 
Of shady hazel hedges ; 



That push their heads above the sod, 
In many a rude fence-corner, — 

But still they were the flowers of God, 
Fit jeivels to adorn her. 



Many a rose she ivove, betimes. 
Mid simple, wayside posies ; 

For love, so sweet and thorny, finds 
Its counterpart in roses. 



And still her garhmd greiv and grew, 
While summer skies tvere hazy. 

With here and there a pansy blue, 
And here and there a daisy, 

And here and there a buttercup, 

Plucked where the bees ivere humming ; 
For all her blossom-tvorld looked up 

Arid smiled to greet her coming. 

Once, in a leafy, woodland bower 
By girlhood's simriy portal, 

12 



PREFACE. 

She found a sweeter, rarer flower, 
That grew from seed immortal. 

The great world said: '"Tis ivondrous fair! 

We do not ivant your j)osies ; 
But give to us this hlossom rare, 

This regal queen of roses. " 

She plucked it forth from hud and leaf 

That clustered close about it, 
She gave it — but her rosy wreath 

Was incomjilete ivithout it. 



The great world said : "'Tis wondrous fair! 

Unlike your wayside posies. 
Go thou, and find viore blossoms rare, — 

Bring us more queens of roses. " 



Her sweet hedgerows are left behind, 
Long jjast is girlhood's portal ; 

Perchance she never more will find 
Flowers groion from seed immortal. 



But she has other rosy blooms, 

Not quite devoid of graces, 
Gleaned here and tliere among life's glooms 

And in its sunny places. 

15 



PREFACE. 

Accept the many for the one, — 
The starry lights, God-given, 

Are coimtless, ^vhile a single sun 
Illumes the dome of heaven. 

Some weary one along life's way, 
Dazed hy the sun's fierce splendor. 

Would miss those starry eyes if they. 
More brilliant, were less tender. 

Sweet clover-bloom and cowslip) fair. 
Though field and meadow posies. 

May still be loved, and honors share 
With Lovers bright queen of roses. 

16 



Curfew Must Not Ring To-Night. 

ENGLAND'S sun was slowly setting o'er the hill-tops far away, 
Filling all the land with beauty at the close of one sad day ; 
And its last rays kissed the forehead of a man and maiden fair, — 
He with steps so slow and weary, she with sunny, floating hair: 
He with bowed head, sad and thoughtful; she with lips so cold and 

white. 
Struggled to keep back the murmur, " Curfew must not ring to-night ! " 



" Sexton," Bessie's white lips faltered, pointing to the prison old. 
With its walls so tall and gloomy, — moss-grown walls dark, damp, and 

cold, — 
" I Ve a lover in that prison, doomed this very night to die 
At the ringing of the curfew, and no earthly help is nigh. 
Cromwell will not come till sunset " ; and her lips grew strangely white 
As she spoke in husky whispers, " Curfew must not ring to-night ! " 

17 



18 CURFEW MUST NOT RING TO-NIGHT 

"Bessie," calmly spoke the sexton (every word pierced her young heart 
Like a gleaming death-winged arrow, like a deadly poisoned dart), 
"Long, long years I've rung the curfew from that gloomy, shadowed 

tower ; 
Every evening, just at sunset, it has tolled the twilight hour. 
I have done my duty ever, tried to do it just and right; 
Now I'm old I will not miss it: Curfew bell must ring to-night!" 



Wild her eyes and pale her features, stern and white her thoughtful 

brow, 
And within her heart's deep centre Bessie made a solemn vow. 
She had listened while the judges read, without a tear or sigh, 
"At the ringing of the curfew Basil Underwood omtst die." 
And her breath came fast and faster, and her eyes grew large and bric^ht; 
One low murmur, faintly spoken, "Curfew must not ring to-nicrht!" 



She with quick step bounded forward, sprang within the old church 
door. 

Left the old man coming, slowly, paths he'd trod so oft before. 
Not one moment paused the maiden, but, with cheek and brow aglow, 
Staggered up the gloomy tower where the bell swung to and fro; 
As she climbed the slimy ladder, on which fell no ray of light, 
Upward still, her pale lips saying, "Curfew shall not ring to-night!" 




•'HE, WITH STEPS SO SLOW AND WEARY; SHE, WITH SUNNY FLOATING 

HAIK." 



CURFEW MUST NOT RING TO-NIGHT. 21 

She has reached the topmost ladder ; o'er her hangs the great, dark bell ; 
Awful is the gloom beneath her, like the pathway down to hell. 
See, the ponderous tongue is swinging ! 't is the hour of curfew now ! 
And the sight has chilled her bosom, stopped her breath and paled 

her brow. 
Shall she let it ring ? No, never ! Her eyes flash with sudden light. 
As she springs and grasps it firmly: "Curfew shall not ring to-night!'* 



Out she swung, far out; the city seemed a speck of light below, 
There 'twixt heaven and earth suspended, as the bell swung to and fro. 
And the sexton at the bell-rope, old and deaf, heard not the bell; 
Sadly thought that twilight curfew rang young Basil's funeral knell. 
Still the maiden, clinging firmly, quivering lip and fair face white. 
Stilled her frightened heart's wild beating : " Curfew shall not ring 
to-night ! " 



It was o'er! — the bell ceased swaying, and the maiden stepped once 

more 
Firmly on the damp old ladder, where, for hundred years before, 
Human foot had not been planted. The brave deed that she had done 
Should be told long ages after. As the rays of setting sun 
Light the sky with golden beauty, aged sires, with heads of white. 
Tell the children why the curfew did not ring that one sad night. 



22 CURFEW MUST NOT RING TO-NIGHT. 

O'er the distant hills comes Cromwell. Bessie sees him, and her brow, 
Lately white with sickening horror, has no anxious traces now. 
At his feet she tells her story, shows her hands, all bruised and torn; 
And her sweet young face, still haggard with the anguish it had worn, 
Touched his heart with sudden pity, lit his eyes with misty light. 
" Go ! your lover lives," cried Cromwell. " Curfew shall not ring to- 
night!" 



Wide they flung the massive portals, led the prisoner forth to die. 
All his bright young life before him, 'neath the darkening English sky. 
Bessie came, with flying footsteps, eyes aglow with lovelight sweet, 
Kneeling on the turf beside him, laid his pardon at his feet. 
In his brave, strong arms he clasped her, kissed the face upturned 

and white, 
Whispered, " Darling, you have saved me ! curfew will not ring to- 
night." 



Margaret. 

FAIE Margaret! beautiful Margaret! 
In the hush of the twilight cold. 
The sun on a dazzling throne has set 

In a cloud of amber and gold; 
And the great green waves, with their white caps wet, 
O'er the beach to her feet have rolled. 



She waits for' the lover whose kiss one day- 
Was pressed on her quivering lips, — 

The lover who went from her side away 
In one of those swift-sailing ships, 

O'er the waves that bright in the sunlight lay 
'Neath the glow of its finger-tips. 



O the sea! the stormy, tempestuous sea! 
The sea with its roar and its gloom, — 

23 



24 2IARGARET. 

The treacherous sea, how it shouts in glee 
O'er each jewel-decked coral tomb ! 

The glorious, grand, resplendent sea. 
In the light of a golden noon ! 



Whenever the shadowy twilight creeps 

O'er the earth, with her fair feet wet, — 

When the stars come out and the great world sleeps, 
When the murmuring waters fret 

On the sandy shore, — then she waits and weeps, 
Lonely, sorrowful Margaret! 



There she sits alone mid the gleaming sands, 

By the shadowy ivied wall. 
While over the clasp of her trembling hands 

Like a shower the tear-drops fall; 
And the sea brings murmurs of far-off lands. 

And the blue sky bends over all. 



" bring back my lover once ! " she cries, 
"As I sit by the sea alone; 

pitiful Father in Paradise ! 

Stoop down from thy glorious throne, 



MARGARET. 

And grant to the light of my waiting eyes 
One glimpse of his face, — only one!" 

Now the sea rolls in with a mighty swell,— 
Will it bring a curse or a crown? 

For, alas! no echoing murmurs tell 

Of the home-bound ship that went down 

Mid the hidden reefs, with never a knell 
From the slumbering harbor town. 



All about her the water moans and raves, 
She is drenched with the falling sleet; 

Something lies dark in the arms of the waves 
Where the sky and the waters meet: 

Lo! a victim snatched from the coral graves 
Is cast on the beach at her feet! 



beautiful Margaret, pale and fair! 

By the sea no longer alone; 
For two faces lie in the starlight there, 

With features like chiselled stone. 
And the seaweed drifts from his tangled hair 

To the sunny locks of her own. 



27 



The Station Agejs^t's Story. 

TAKE a seat in the shade here, lady; 
It 's tiresome, I know, to wait ; 
But when the train reaches Verona 

It's always sure to be late, — 
'Specially when any one's waitin'. 
Been gatherin' flowers, I see ? 
Ah, well ! they 're better company 
Than a rouoh old fellow like me. 



You noticed the graves 'neath the willows, 

Down there where the blossoms grew ? 
Well, yes, there's a story about them, 

Almost too strange to be true; 
'Tis a stranger, sweeter story 

Than was ever written in books ; 
And God made the endin' so perfect — 

There, now I see by your looks 
28 



THE STATION AGENT'S STORY. 29 

I will have to tell the story: 

Let me see; 'twas eight years ago 
One blusterin' night in winter, 

When the air was thick with snow; 
As the freight came round the curve there 

They beheld a man on the track, 
Bravin' the storm before him, but 

Not heedin' the foe at his back. 

And ere a hand could grasp the bell-rope, 

Or a finger reach the rod. 
One sweep from the cruel snow-plough 

Had sent the man's soul to its God! 
They laid him out here in the freight-house. 

And I stayed with him that night; 
He'd one of the pleasantest faces. 

So hopeful and young and bright. 



There was only a worn-out letter; 

I know it by heart — it said: 
"Dear John: Baby May grows finely, 

I send you this curl from her head. 
We will meet you at Brackenboro'. 

The grandfather's sad and lone. 



30 THE STATION AGENT'S STORY. 

But I read him your kind words, sayin', 
When we Ve a home of our own, 



He shall sing the songs of old England 

Beneath our own willow tree." 
That was all there was of it, lady, 

And 'twas signed just "Alice Leigh." 
So we made a grave in the mornin' 

And buried the man out there 
Alone, unmourned, in a stranger's land, 

"With only a stranger's prayer. 



But when he 'd slept in his lonely grave 

Out there nigh on to a year, 
Eay's freight ran into a washout 

By the culvert, away down here ; 
There were only two passengers that night. 

Dead when we found them there, — 
A sweet little Englishwoman, 

And a baby with golden hair. 

On her breast lay the laughing baby, 
With its rosy finger-tips 



THE STATION AGENT'S STORY. 31 

Still warm, and the fair young mother 

With a frozen smile on her lips. 
We laid them out here in the freight-house, 

I stayed that night with the dead ; 
I shall never forget the letter 

We found in her purse ; it said : 



" Dear Alice : Praise God I 've got here ! 

I '11 soon have a home for you now ; 
But you must come with the haby 

As soon as you can anyhow. 
Comfort the grandfather, and tell him 

That by and by he shall come, 
And sing the songs of old England 

'Neath the willows beside our home; 



For, close by the door of our cottage 

I '11 set out a willow tree. 
For his sake and the sake of old England. 

Lovingly yours. John Leigh." 



The tears filled my eyes as I read it; 
But I whispered, " God is just ! " 



32 THE STATION AGENTS STORY. 

For I knew the true heart yonder — 
Then only a handful of dust — 

Had drawn this sweet little woman 
Eight here, and God's merciful love 

Had taken her from the sorrow 
To the glad reunion above ! 



So, close by the grave of the other 

We laid her away to rest, — 
The golden-haired English mother, 

With the baby upon her breast. 
I planted those trees above them, 

For I knew their story, you see ; 
And I thought their rest would be sweeter 

'Neath their own loved willow tree. 



Five years rolled along; and, lady, 
My story may now seem to you 

Like a wonderful piece of fiction ; 
But I tell you it is true, — 

As true as that God is above us! 
One summer day, hot and clear, 



THE STATION AGENT'S STORY. 33 

As the train rolled into the station 

And stopped to change engines here, 



Among a company of Mormons 

Came a tremblin' white-haired man ; 
He asked me in waverin' accents, 

"Will you tell me, sir, if you can, 
Of a place called Brackenboro' ? 

And how far have I got to go ? " 
" It 's the next station north," I answered, 

" Only thirteen miles below." 



His old face lit up for a moment 

With a look of joy complete ; 
Then he threw up his hands toward Heaven, 

And dropped down dead at my feet ! 
" Old Hugh Leigh is dead ! " said a Mormon, 

" And sights o' trouble he 's be'n. 
Nothin' would do when we started 

But that he must come with us then. 



To find Alice, John, and the baby ; 
And his heart was well-ni^h broke 



34 THE STATION AGENT'S STORY. 

With waitin' and watchin' in England 
For letters they never wrote." 

So we buried him there with the others, 
Beneath the willow tree. 

'Twas God's way of endin' the story — 
More perfect than man's could be. 



The Red Cross. 

" ^ 7'ES, Louis, go ! your country calls ; I will not keep you here ; 
X For every soldier in the field some heart holds just as dear, 
And tears will come at parting which we vainly strive to hide ; 
Go ! mid the busy din of war forget your English bride. 



"But when the smoke has cleared away, and when the battle's done. 
You'll think of her who prays for you from rise till set of sun, 
And picture oft the brighter days, when, marching home with pride. 
You'll gain a joyous welcome from your waiting English bride." 



His firm hands clasped hers kindly, while his dark eyes searched her 

face, — 
A face of woman's sweetness, with a gleam of tender grace; 
But, oh ! the woman's love was there, half worship and half pride, 
As each fair feature quivered with the pain she could not hide. 

35 



36 THE BED CROSS. 

"Give me one token, Bertha, of the love you bear for me, 
That m my camp-hfe's duller hours will turn my thoughts to thee ; 
A ribbon you have worn will do : if these dear hands have pressed 
Its silken folds, I'll wear it then forever on my breast." 



She stood in thought one moment, then her fingers, white and fair 
With gleaming scissors wandered in her mass of golden hair; 
And as he held the token, that one little shining tress, 
It twined around his finger with a loving, mute caress. 



"This is the token, Louis, that will bid you think of me. 
And may God's holy angels keep a watchful care o'er thee, — 
To guide your steps in battle safe, unharmed from shot or shell; 
But should you fall I '11 try to say, ' Hi doeth all things ivelL' " 



" What ! teats, my gentle Bertha ? and I thought you were so brave ! 
We know tihe future, darling, holds many a soldier's grave, — 
Holds many wives and orphans, who will wait and watch in vain 
For the step and voice that never will greet their ear again." 



Back from her pure white forehead he held the sunny hair. 
And left a soldier's burning kiss of love and pity there, — 



THE RED CROSS. 37 

A soldier's tender, longing kiss — ah ! many a heart can tell, 
The saddest words in every tongue are those which say farewell. 



Oh, weeks that drag their weary length along the shore of time! 
Each night and morn the torture of suspense and fear combine 
To rob the aching head of rest, to fill the heart with pain, 
And with their slow, consuming fire at last to craze the brain. 



Brave soldier in the field of strife, though hard your lot may be, 
You cannot know the anxious hours she spends who waits for thee ; 
For wild imagination gives the sharpest pang we feel, 
And each dread battle probes the wound with keener edge than steel. 



woman, toiling all the day mid hunger, want, and care. 

With little space for thought or tears, and scarcely time for prayer ! 

Your labor is a blessing, for though deep your heartfelt pain, 

You have no hours' maddening thoughts, and dreams that craze the brain. 



There's always room for tender hands where wounded soldiers lie. 
To bind the shattered broken limb, to close the sightless eye. 
To pray before God's altar for many a hardened man. 
And point the way to Heaven as only woman can. 



38 THE RED CROSS. 

When Bertha heard the summons as it came across the tide, 
She laid all woman's weakness by, and, asking God to guide. 
She left her northern home, with all its luxuries, to go 
And join the "Ked Cross" sisterhood mid scenes of pain and woe. 

Many a dying soldier turned with wistful, longing eyes 
To catch the blessed words she spoke of rest beyond the skies ; 
Some vaguely thought the girlish face, shaded by golden hair, 
In their last hours was but a pure sweet angel bending there. 

Oft to waiting wives and mothers she sent the message home, 
In the place of many a loved one who nevermore would come, 
And dropped a tear of pity for the homes made desolate, 
Where now the golden dawn of peace would only come too late. 

Once bending o'er a ghastly corpse, with scarred and mangled face, 
She thought, could e'en his mother in those swollen features trace 
One dear look to remind her of the son she sent away. 
Unless she knew the wavy hair that round his temples lay? 

What hushed her heart's wild throbbings then? what blanched her 

cheek so white ? 
" God ! " she cried, " it cannot be ! but this dark hair is like — 




EACH XKillT AM) ,M(il;N TllK lOKllliK OF SUSPENSE AND FEAR COMBINK 
TO ROB THE ACHING HEAD OK REST, TO FILL THE HEART WITH PAIN. 



THE RED CROSS. 41 

So very much like Louis' hair, all bright and brown — but then 
The battle-field is strewn with dead, and some are dark-haired men. 



Just where a stinging death-winged ball had torn his coat apart. 
And left a crimson, ragged rent above his loyal heart, 
One little tress was clinging in the long, unseemly tear, 
All matted in his heart's best gore, — a tress of golden hair. 



With pallid cheek and dizzy brain she sank upon the floor: 
'T is well that dark oblivion comes when hearts can bear no more. 
But, oh! the wakening cometh too, with hopeless, maddening pain. 
And memory points to happy hours that will not come again ! 



Back rushed the tide of life again to lip and cheek and brow; 
'T was life without one ray of hope to cheer her future now ; 
'T was life — but oh ! it seemed so long to toil and weep and wait ! 
For her the joyful morn of peace would dawn, but all too late! 



Back to her work with softer light in her dark eyes she came; 
Speaking sweet words of comfort with a healing balm, the same 
As though her own heart suffered not, bravely she hid its pain, 
And nursed health's bloom and courage back to faltering hearts again. 



42 THE RED CROSS. 

Just where the sun fell brightest on a weary boyish face, 
A form convulsed with torture in the clasp of death's embrace, — 
A white brow, fair and truthful, half concealed by nut-brown hair, — 
Some loving mother's darling in his youth lay dying there. 

And Bertha, kneeling by him, caught the accents of a prayer. 
That he might die in his loved home, that vine-clad cottage where 
His feet had roamed in brighter days ; but ere the prayer was said 
She closed the pleading, tearful eyes, for the boy's soul had fled. 

The men who stood in waiting bore the slender form away. 
While she smoothed the coarse, rough pillow where late his ringlets lay, 
And sighed for those to whom the tale would carry untold pain, 
As they laid another soldier where the dead boy's head had lain. 

Pale, ghastly pale, his cheek and brow, and wild his wandering eye ! 
They told her that he could not live, — they'd brought him there to die. 
But in his face she saw a look that blanched her cheeks as white 
As when she stood beside her dead, and every hope took flight. 

O'er him her quivering face is bent; her cheeks now flushed, now 

white, 
Her pale lips trembling and her eyes grown dark with hopeful light. 



THE RED CROSS. 43 

Within the soldier's blood-stained coat she lays her hand, and there 
Her fingers clasp a shining curl, — " Thanh God ! 't is golden hair ! " 



'T was Louis ! yes, and life was there, though flickering, faint, and dim. 
Day after day with ceaseless care she watched and prayed for him; 
And God, who hears these prayers of ours, and knows each sad heart's 

pain, 
Into her faithful, loving hands gave back his life again. 



Down the Track. 

IN the deepening shades of twilight 
Stood a maiden, young and fair; 
Eain-drops gleamed on cheek and forehead, 

Eain-drops glistened in her hair. 
Where the bridge had stood at morning 

Yawned a chasm deep and black ; 
Faintly came the distant rumbling 
From the train far down the track. 



Paler grew each marble feature; 

Faster came her frightened breath, — 
Charhe kissed her lips at morning, — 

Charlie rushing down to death ! 
Must she stand and see him perish ? 

Angry waters answer back ; 
Louder comes the distant rumbling 

From the train far down the track. 
44 



DOWN THE TRACK. 45 

At death's door faint hearts grow fearless, 

Miracles are sometimes wrought, 
Springing from the heart's devotion 

In the forming of a thought. 
From her waist she tears her apron, 

Flings her tangled tresses back, 
Working fast and praying ever 

For that train far down the track. 



See ! a lurid spark is kindled, 

Right and left she flings the flame, 
Turns and speeds with airy fleetness 

Downward toward the coming train; 
Sees afar the red eye gleaming 

Through the shadows dense and black. 
Hark! a shriek prolonged and deafening, — 

They have seen her down the track! 



Onward comes the train, — now slower. 
But the maiden, where is she ? 

Flaming torch and flying footsteps, 
Fond eyes gaze in vain to see. 

With a white face turned to heaven, 
All her sunny hair thrown back. 



46 DOWN THE TRACK. 



There they found her, one hand lying 
Crushed and bleeding on the track. 



Eager faces bent above her, 

Wet eyes pitied, kind lips blest ; 
But she saw no face save Charlie's, — 

'Twas for him she saved the rest. 
Gold they gave her from their bounty; 

But her sweet eyes wandered back 
To the face whose love will scatter 

Eoses all along life's track. 



In the Mining Town. 

TIS the last time, darling," he gently said. 
As he kissed her lips like the cherries red, 
While a fond look shone in his eyes of brown : 
"My own is the prettiest girl in town. 
To-morrow the bell from the tower will ring 
A joyful peal. Was there ever a king 
So truly blest, on his royal throne, 
As I shall be when I claim my own!" 



'Twas a fond farewell; 'twas a sweet good-by; 
But she watched him go with a troubled sigh. 
As into the basket, that swayed and swung 
O'er the yawning abyss, he lightly sprung; 
And the joy of her heart seemed turned to woe 
As they lowered him into the depths below. 
Her sweet young face, with its tresses brown, 
Was the fairest face in the mining town. 

47 



48 IN THE MINING TOWN. 

Lo the morning came ! but the marriage-bell 
High up in the tower rang a mournful knell 
For the true heart buried 'neath earth and stone. 
Far down in the heart of the mine alone, — 
A sorrowful peal on their wedding-day 
For the breaking heart and the heart of clay ; 
And the face that looked from her tresses brown 
Was the saddest face in the mining town. 



Thus time rolled along on its weary way, 
Until fifty years with their shadows gray 
Had darkened the light of her sweet eyes' glow, 
And had turned the brown of her hair to snow. 
Oh ! never a kiss from a husband's lips, 
Or the clasp of a child's sweet finger-tips, 
Had lifted one moment the shadows brown 
From the saddest heart in the mining town ! 



Far down in the depths of the mine, one day 
In the loosened earth they were digging away, 
They discovered a face, so young, so fair; 
From the smiling lip to the bright brown hair 
Untouched by the finger of Time's decay. 
When they drew him up to the light of day * 



IJV THE MINING TOWN. 49 

The wondering people gathered round 
To gaze at the man thus strangely found. 



Then a woman came from among the crowd, 

With her long white hair, and her slight form bowed. 

She silently knelt by the form of clay, 

And kissed the lips that were cold and gray. 

Then the sad old face, with its snowy hair 

On his youthful bosom lay pillowed there. 

He had found her at last his waiting bride. 

And the people buried them side by side. 



M- 



In Answer. 

'ADAM, we miss the train at B ." 

But can't you make it, sir ? " she gasped. 
" Impossible ! it leaves at three. 

And we are due a quarter past." 
" Is there no way ? Oh ! tell me, then, 

Are you a Christian ? " "I am not." 
" And are there none among the men 

Who run the train ? " "No — I forgot — 
I think this fellow over here, 

Oiling the engine, claims to be." 
She turned upon the engineer 

A fair face white with agony. 



" Are you a Christian ? " " Yes, I am." 

" Then, 0, sir ! won't you pray with me, 

no 



jj\^ answ:ee. 51 



All the long way, that God will stay, 
That God will hold the train at B- 



" 'T will do no good. It leaves at three. 

And — " "Yes, but God can hold the train; 
My dying child is calling me, 

And I must see her face again. 
Oh ! won't you pray ? " "I will ! " a nod 

Emphatic, as he takes his place. 
When Christians grasp the arm of God 

They grasp the power that rules the race. 

Out from the station swept the train 

On time, — swept on past wood and lea ; 
The engineer, with cheeks aflame. 

Prayed, "0 Lord, hold the train at B !" 

Then flung the throttle wide, and like 

Some giant monster of the plain. 
With panting sides and mighty strides. 

Past hill and valley swept the train. 



A half, — a minute, — two are gained; 

Along those burnished lines of steel 
His glances leap, each nerve is strained, 

And still he prays with fervent zeal. 



52 ZA^ ANSWER. 

Heart, hand, and brain with one accord 

Work while his prayer ascends to Heaven 

"Just hold the train eight minutes, Lord, 
And I '11 make up the other seven." 



With rush and roar through meadow lands, 

Past cottage homes and green hillsides, 
The panting thing obeys his hands, 

And speeds along with giant strides. 
They say an accident delayed 

The train a little while ; but He 
Who listened while His children prayed, 

In answer held the train at B . 



The Bridge of San Martin. 

" /"^ build the bridge o' San Martin across the rapid stream ; 
VJ Across the dashing Tagus, whose waters flash and gleam, 
Whose angry, raging billows, foam-crested as they flow, 
Send back a roar defiant from out the depths below." 



" But who shall plan the structure ? " Black sweeps the swollen tide, 
While anxious faces gather dark-browed on either side. 
And, lo ! before Tenorio a youthful form appears. 
Tall, dark, and slender, seeming a very boy in years. 



" But what pledge can you offer, that our trust be not vain ? " 
Across the young face hopeful there swept a dash of pain. 
A glance, half love, half pity, he gave his girlish wife. 
Then said: "I pledge my honor, — my honor and my life. 

53 



54 THE BRIDGE OF SAN MARTIN. 

"When they remove the scaffold which holds the arch of stone, 
I'll stand upon the centre of the great new bridge alone. 
And if the crowning glory of all my heart's desire 
Is wrecked, with it I perish. What more would you require ? " 



Behold the work completed ! To-morrow's light shall see 
The great bridge of San Martin from all support cut free ! 
But he who watched its progress with heart and eye aglow 
Beside fair Catalina sits wrapt in deepest woe. 



"To-morrow morn the people will gather on the shore, 
And I shall see the sun rise o'er Spain's green hills once more; 
Once more I'll clasp you, darling, close to my breaking heart. 
Before that awful moment in which I take a part. 



"A single fatal error! To-morrow's sun will gleam 
Upon the bridge and builder wrecked on the raging stream. 
Ah ! death indeed were welcome, forgetfulness were kind, 
To veil the dark dishonor and shame I leave behind." 



No word spoke Catalina, but when he sought his bed 

To the bridge of San Martin she flew with noiseless tread. 




THE BRIDGE OF SAN MARTIN. 



THE BRIDGE OF SAN MARTIN. 57 

A lurid spark she kindled, the night-winds fanned the flame, 
And soon the fiery billows had saved her husband's name. 



The new bridge of San Martin from out the dust and flame 
Eeared high in massive grandeur, a monument of fame 
To crown the youthful builder. Complete in every part, 
His name's enshrined with honor in every Spaniard's heart. 



Tha:n^ksgivi:n^g Day. 

^T^HE floor had been swept, and the furniture dusted, 

J- The table white spread in the neat dining-hall; 
The cakes on the pantry shelf, pure snowy crusted, 

And pies, custard, pumpkin, mince, apple, and all, 
"With pans full of doughnuts and cookies, were waiting 

To fill up the table in splendid array; 
The chickens and turkeys were quietly baking, 

And all things were ready for Thanksgiving day. 



Once again Grandma Snow looked in at the baking, " 
While Grandpa looked anxiously out at the door. 

Some sweet, tender thought in their bosoms awaking 
Of life's holy mission so soon to be o'er. 

At last all was done. By the fire brightly burning 
They sat, those two loving ones, aged and gray, 

And talked of the children now gladly returning 
To father and mother this Thanksgiving day. 

58 



THANKSGIVING DAY. 59 

" It 's time they were comin' ; why, do you know, mother, 

It seems but a day since the children were here ? 
A bright, noisy group, playing tag with each other, 

And now they come home to us just once a year. 
Little Mary will come, our dear little Mary — 

Who 'd think of our baby as going away 
With a stranger ! and Tom, from the distant prairie. 

Ah, well! they'll be with us this Thanksgiving day. 

"And Dick, from down South, with his fine, pretty lady, — 

I hope she won't scorn us, and our humble home." 
"And Florence," said Grandma, "will come with her baby, 

And Susan, with all the dear children, will come. 
Well, well ! they will find us here ready to meet them, — 

We keep the nest warm when our birds are away, — 
And in the dear home of their childhood we'll greet them 

At least once a year, on the Thanksgiving day. 

"The years seem so bright since you brought me here, Peter; 

Your love made them peaceful and happy and long." 
"And, Mary," said he, "you are dearer and sweeter 

Than ever you were in the years that are gone. 
We've come down the hill of life's journey together, 

Through sunshine and shade, side by side all the way; 



60 THANGS GIVING DAY. 

Your lover, who told you his love by the river, 

Is your true lover still, on this Thanksgiving day. 



"When our last one left us, dear heart, how we missed her! 

But now they're all settled in homes of their own. 
Our life work is finished," — he bent over and kissed her, — 

"In the empty home nest we are waiting alone." 
With his arm round her waist, her head on his shoulder. 

His hand clasping hers in the old loving way. 
They're roaming, once more, by the stream where he told her 

His love long ago on a Thanksgiving day. 



He is telling it over, the sweet, olden story! 

Forgetting the years and the sorrows between; 
The sunlight creeps in with a halo of glory, — 

Creeps in through the window, unheeded, unseen. 
There's a rumbling of wheels, and glad, happy voices; 

Men, women, and children, in festive array. 
Come down the long walk — how each fond heart rejoices 

In this glad reunion on Thanksgiving day ! 



His hand clasping hers, the aged couple are sitting, 

The room has grown chill, for the fire has gone out; 



THANKSGIVING DAY. 61 

The kitten is playing with grandmother's knitting, — 
They heed not the children who gather about. 

They heed not, they care not, for over the river 
The dusky-winged angel hath borne them away! 

Hand in hand, side by side, crossed over together, 
Life crowned with eternity's Thanksgiving day. 



The Soldier's Reprieve. 

MY Fred ! I can't understand it," 
And his voice quivered with pain. 
While the tears kept slowly dropping 

On his trembling hands like rain. 
"For Fred was so brave and loyal, 

So true — but my eyes are dim, 
And I cannot read the letter, 

The last I shall get from him. 
Please read it, sir, while I listen — 

In fancy I see him — dead ; 
My boy, shot down like a traitor, 

My noble, my brave boy Fred." 

" Dear Father," — so ran the letter, — 
" To-morrow when twilight creeps 

Along the hill to the churchyard, 

O'er the grave where mother sleeps. 

When the dusky shadows gather, 
They '11 lay your boy in his grave 
62 



THE SOLDIER'S REPRIEVE. 63 

For nearly betraying the country 

He would give his life to save. 
And, father, I tell you truly, 

With almost my latest breath. 
That your boy is not a traitor, 

Thouoh he dies a traitor's death. 



"You remember Bennie Wilson? 

He's suffered a deal of pain. 
He was only that day ordered 

Back into the ranks again. 
I carried all of his luggage, 

With mine, on the march that day; 
I gave him my arm to lean on. 

Else he had dropped by the way. 
'Twas Bonnie's turn to be sentry; 

But I took his place, and I — 
Father, I fell asleep, and now 

I must die as traitors die. 

"The Colonel is kind and generous, 
He has done the best he can. 

And they will not bind or blind me — 
I shall meet death like a man. 



04 TEE SOLDIER'S REPRIEVE. 

Kiss little Blossom; but, father, 

Need you tell her how I fall?" 
A sob from the shadowed corner, — 

Yes, Blossom had heard it all ! 
As she kissed the precious letter 

She said with faltering breath, 
" Our Fred is never a traitor, 

Thoucrh he dies a traitor's death.' 



And a little sun-brown maiden. 

In a shabby time-worn dress, 
Took her seat a half-hour later 

In the crowded night express. 
The conductor heard her story 

As he held her dimpled hand, 
And sighed for the sad hearts breaking 

All over the troubled land. 
He tenderly wiped the teardrop 

From the blue eyes brimming o'er, 
And guarded her footsteps safely 

Till she reached the White House doer. 



The President sat at his writing; 
But the eves were kind and mild 



THE SOLDIER'S REPRIEVE. 65 

That turned with a look of wonder 

On the little shy-faced child. 
And he read Fred's farewell letter 

With a look of sad regret. 
"'Tis a brave young life," he murmured, 

"And his country needs him yet. 
From an honored place in battle 

He shall bid the world good-by; 
If that brave young life is needed. 

He shall die as heroes die." 



The Luck of Muncaster. 

A LEGEND OF ME RE IE ENGLAND. 

RESIDE the crystal well she stood, 
Fair Margaret, Lowther's daughter, 
Clear hazel eyes smiled back at her 

Up from the sparkling water. 
The sunlight fell on tresses bright, 
Tresses half brown, half golden. 
While at her feet Lord William knelt, 
And told tlie story olden. 

An outlaw border chieftain he. 

Of haughty mien and carriage, 
With earnest words on bended knee 

Besought her hand in marriage. 
"My life with thine," the lady said, 

"Can never be united; 
To brave Sir John of Muncaster 

This hand of mine is plighted." 
66 



THE LUCK OF MUNC ASTER. 67 

"My vengeance," cried the dark-browed Scot, 

"On thee, proud Lowther's daughter! 
This lord of thine shall not he safe 

From me on land or water!" 
Disdainful smiled the lady then: 

"Thy threats are unavailing; 
While Sir John owns the sacred cup, 

Mischance can ne'er assail him. 



"'Twas Henry Sixth pronounced the charm 

(A glass cup was the token), 
'In Muncaster good luck shall reign 

Till this charmed cup is broken ! ' 
A hundred years the charm hath held 

Its power beyond undoing; 
Good luck attends Muncaster lords 

In battle and in wooing." 



"And this the luck of Muncaster?" 

Said the rejected lover. 
"The charm hath stood a hundred years, 

It shall not stand another." 
Then straight to Carlisle tower he rode: 

"My lord" he cried, "make ready. 



6S THE LUCK OF 31UNCASTEB. 

For Douglas comes with Scottish hordes! 
Each arm is strong and steady. 



"Prepare to give them battle now, 

And mete out justice measure ; 
Or send some trusted messenger 

For thy most valued treasure." 
"Small treasure have I," Sir John said, 

"But one in casket oaken 
I fain would save from plundering hand, 

Untarnished and unbroken. 



"Go thou and bring the gem I prize; 

Thou art no foe or stranger, 
Else why hast rode this weary way 

To warn me of my danger ? " 
And ere the bat had winged its flight 

Across night's sable curtain 
The dark-lirowed knight of Liddersdale 

Had done the message certain. 



"Now, by my lady's lips, I swear. 
Thy friendship is amazing," 



THE LUCK OF MUNCASTEB. 71 

Cried gay Sir John of Muncaster, 

Into the dark face gazing. 
" Swear not by lips of her you love, — 

You never more shall press them ; 
Bright are the locks of Margaret's hair, — 

No more shalt thou caress them." 



Exclaimed the fiery Scot in glee, 

"I hold the precious token 
That binds good luck to thee and thine, 

That charmed spell shall be broken. 
Behold I dash it to the earth ! 

In vain thy deepest regret ; 
Douglas shall win thy palace tower, 

And / the lady Marg'ret." 



The traitor fled ; Sir John sank down 

Beside the casket oaken: 
O miracle ! the crystal cup 

Lay there unharmed, unbroken ! 
Two thousand soldiers came in time 

To stay the Douglas slaughter, 
And gay Sir John was married to 

Fair Margaret, Lowther's daughter. 



The Little Bells. 

A LEGEND OF THE FUCHSIA. 

CLASPING her close in his strong young arms, 
As his bhie eyes met her own, 
He said': " I have brought a lovely plant 

From the far-off tropic zone, 
"With clusters of leaves like satin green, 
And blossoms — ah, who can tell ? — 
Some day you will see each bud will be 
A wonderful little bell. 



"Though sorrow comes to your waiting heart 

When my ship has sailed away, 
Eemember I said, 'These bells will ring 

On your happy wedding-day.' 
A fortune I 've brought you, sister mine, 

From the sun-crowned southern dells ; 
Go and set it where the sweet south air 

Will open the little bells." 
72 



THE LITTLE BELLS. 73 

In the southern window, bright and warm, 

'Neath the low-roofed cottage eaves, 
She placed her treasure, and day by day 

She watched its unfolding leaves; 
There were tears in her sweet English eyes, 

Tears gleamed on her lashes brown. 
For a ship one day, far, far away 

In a storm-tossed sea went down. 



The young earl rode by the cot one day 

When the plant was all in bloom; 
He lingered long ere he rode away 

In the dusk of twilight's gloom. 
"The loveliest Howers on earth," he said, 

"They bloom by a cottage wall; 
They would grace a throne ; they shall be my own, 

And bloom in my palace hall." 

He met the maid at the cottage door : 

" A fortune, " he said, " for these." 
"No, no," she cried, as a vision came 

Of the stormy southern seas, 
"The hand that gave them lies cold and still 

In one of the ocean dells ; 



74 THE LITTLE BELLS. 

It would break my heart to ever part 
With my damty Httle bells." 



He turned his gaze on the maiden's face, — 

A face that was shy and sweet ; 
She was wondrous fair, from her gold-kissed hair 

To her pretty sandalled feet. 
'"Tis the fairest face on earth," he thought, 

"As pure as an angel's own; 
She shall be my bride ; 't is a shame to hide 

Such grace in a cottage home ! " 



0, the palace halls were wide and grand. 

And the palace towers were high ! 
There were lawns and parks wide spreading 'neath 

The dome of the English sky. 
And still to the listening children 

At twilight a grandsire tells 
Of a lady bright who was wed one night 

Mid the chime of little bells. 




"THE LOVELIEST KLOWEHS ON EARTH," UK SA 
"THEY BLOOM BY A COTTAGE WALL." 



Drikking alkie's Tears. 

MY treat, boys? Step up! I don't care if I dol 
It's many a time I've been treated by you; 
And, boys, I can tell you, it's many a time 
Witli you at the bar I have spent my last dime, 
And gone reeling home; but you've both done the same; 
We began, I believe, with wine and champagne 
Served in wafer-like glasses, thin as the mist 
That rolls from the sea which the sun-god has kissed. 

"We were then college students; science and rhyme. 
Art, music, and Latin, slipped down with our wine; 
But stomach and brain got o'er-loaded, and so 
We held to the drinks and let all the rest go. 
Success we had painted in glow-light of pride,— 
Ambition and wealth swept away by the tide, — 
Love, social position, and friends by the score,— 
We sacrificed all, but the demon craves more ! 
We gave him each one of life's blessings, 'tis true: 
He asks for our souls, and eternity too! 



77 



DRINKING ANNIE'S TEARS. 

" Step up, boys ! it 's my treat, — providing you '11 take 
The beverage I 've chosen for old friendship's sake. 



" You wonder what mixture I 've gotten up now ? 

No mixed drink for me ! I am sure you '11 allow 

I have mixed my drinks well, — rum, beer, and champagne; 

Strong drink in the stomach is death to the brain, 

And death to affection. Deny it, who can ? 

A drunkard has only the semblance of man, 

The form of his Maker, degraded, accursed. 

The vilest of all living things, and the worst. 



"But sometimes that bit of God's presence within, 

Which clings to a fellow in spite of his sin. 

And sets him to thinking, — well, sometimes you know 

The angel within us has worried us so 

We have sworn to reform. We did it last year. 

When we pledged to drink nothing stronger than beer. 



"We made up in quantity what lacked in fire. 
And watched the last glow of true manhood expire 
In excuses, poor phantoms ! pride's tawdry hearse 
Concealing — not death — but humanitv's curse. 



DRINKING ANNIE'S TEARS. 79 

We satisfied conscience, hushed whisperings of fear, 
We three model temperance men drinking our beer. 



"Drinks for three, if you please. We'll take the pure stuff 1 
Of soul-blighting mixtures we've had quite enough. 
Don't scrimp the measure ! fill the glass to the brim, 
With God's sparkling sunlight and glory thrown in. 
Pure crystallized light from the vineyards above, 
Drink fit for the gods from God's wine-press of love ! 



"What brought it about, this free lecture of mine? 
What stirred up the depths of my soul against wine, 
And wine's variations ? List, boys, while I tell : 
You know how you left me that night at the well. 
Blear-eyed and besotted, with imbecile leer, — 
A real model temperance man pickled in beer! 



" She met me, my guardian angel, so fair ; 
The night dews lay damp on her beautiful hair, 
The heart dews hung wet on her lashes, and lay 
On her thin, pallid cheeks. Boys, you know the day 
She came to my home, wife and helpmeet to be, — 
The bonniest girl, and you both envied me. 



80 DRINKING ANNIE'S TEABS. 

"The bright pansy blue has gone out of her eyes, 

And her roses — oh ! how I loathe and despise 

The wretch who could blight them ! No word of complaint 

Or censure for me had my fair little saint. 

She steadied my uncertain footsteps, and led 

The wreck of my manhood, in silence, to bed. 



"I called for a drink as the demon of thirst — 
The demon whose presence my life has accursed — 
Eaged within me. Annie obeyed my command, 
And brought me a drink with love's unweary hand. 



"As she passed it to me one jewelled tear fell 

And was lost in the water she brought from the well. 

That tear sobered me. I had seen them before. 

But I swore then and there I'd drink them no more. 

I vowed that the rest of my life's unspent years 

I'd drink God's pure water, but not Annie's tears." 



A Brave Emperor. 

NIGHT rolled its sombre curtain back 
To greet the dawning day, 
Black swept the angry Danube 
On its terror-freighted way. 
Great blocks of ice came crashing down 

Amid the torrent's roar, 
And seething waters flung their spray 
Upon the ice-bound shore. 



Across that raging, roaring space 

Where Leopoldstadt lies, 
Back to Vienna's listening ear 

Came moans and sobs and cries, — 
Came piteous voices pleading, 

" We are starving ! bring us bread ! " 
And white hands reached imploring 

O'er the waters dark and dread. 



The Emperor Francis Second 

Soon filled the boats with food; 

81 



82 A BRAVE EMPEROR. 

But who will face the dangers 
Of this angry, seething flood? 

He begs, implores, and threatens: 
Bribes and promises are vain, 

While from his famished people 
Comes that anguished wail again. 



" I cannot see my people starve ! " 

The Emperor Francis cries ; 
A quiver thrills his earnest voice, 

A moisture dims his eyes. 
Alone he leaps into a boat 

And pushes from the shore ; 
"They'd give their lives for me," he said, 

"And I can do no more." 



A hundred men are ready now 

To brave the swollen tide. 
If death must come to their brave king, 

They '11 meet it at his side. 
Behold they reach the distant shore ! 

The hungry ones are fed; 
And mothers kiss the hands that bring 

Their starving children bread ! 



The Queen and the Beggar's Child, 

SILK and diamonds and trailing lace, 
Haughty carriage and fair proud face; 
Out from the palace towering high 
Grand and gray 'neath the bending sky, 
O'er the lawn with its carpet green, 
Lightly stepping, came Austria's Queen, 
Flashing gems in the summer's sun. 
Tender Mother and Queen in one. 



Jewels gleam on her royal hands, 
Clasp her arms with their shining bands. 
Sparkle and glow where the sunbeams fall; 
But the most precious of them all 
The nurse is holding with tender care, — 
The royal baby, rosy and fair; 
Pressing fond kisses on cheek and brow. 
The Queen is only a Mother now. 

85 



8G THE QUEEN AND THE BEGGAR'S CHILD. 

Down the lawn, in its shadow deep, 
A beggar-woman lies asleep. 
Hunger, poverty, pain, and care 
Darken the face once young and fair; 
There by the wayside, seeking rest, 
Clasping a babe upon her breast, 
Its hungry wail across the green 
Stirs the heart of the Mother Queen. 



Down on the green grass kneeling low, 
Baring her bosom as white as snow. 
Laying the child without a name 
Where only royal babes have lain. 
Feeding it from her own proud breast. 
Hungry, starving, — ah ! there 's the test, — 
Mother-love spans the chasm w^ide ; 
Queen and station must stand aside ! 



Love's Avowal. 

DEAR heart of my heart, 
Throbbing close to my breast 
With fondest and truest pulsation, 

List while I repeat 

The old story, my sweet, 
In the language of love's adoration ! 

0, life of my life. 

All the purest and best 
Of my manhood warms in thy presence, 

No unworthy part 

Of my life or my heart 
Has a share in the sweet of love's essence. 



Pure soul of my soul, 
Is there aught in my past 
I would blush for your eyes to discover? 
You have reared my throne, 
With your fair hands, my own, 

87 



88 LOVE- IS AVOWAL. 

You have crowned me your king, your true lover. 

0, pure heart and true, 

All my future for you 
Shall read clear as the spring's crystal water, 

Thou lily-white dove. 

In the arms of my love 
I will shield you, my fair little daughter! 



I 



Lost at Sea. 

STOOD where the starlit heavens 
Spread away over field and glen, 



Like the hands of loving angels 

Eeaching down to the hearts of men. 



And the sea, with a glow, reflected 

The infinite lights above ; 
The quivering resplendent heavens 

All smiling with peaceful love. 

And the waves o'er the white sand creeping 
Brought ripples of joyous glee, 

As the lips of the purple heaven 
Bent over to kiss the sea. 



" treacherous sea ! " I murmured, 
" Kestore to my arms, I pray. 

The treasure I gave to your keeping 
One beautiful autumn day." 
89 



90 LOST AT SEA. 

A ship with its precious burden 
Sailed out from my longing gaze, 

Away from the peaceful harbor 
In the briffht October haze. 



And a sweet face looking backward, 
With a tear and a smile for me,- 

The dearest of all my treasures 
I gave to the treacherous sea. 



Old Ocean, all darkly hidden 
In thy secret bosom lies 

The face that I fondly cherished, 
The beautiful lovelit eyes. 



For the ship that left the harbor 
In the calm October haze 

Bore its precious freight forever 
Away from my longing gaze. 



Kisses. 

LITTLE child, when twilight shadows 
Close the western gates of gold, 
Then those loving arms of mother's 

Tenderly about thee fold. 
Over lip and cheek and forehead 

Like a shower caresses fall; 
Tor a mother's kiss at twilight 
Is the sweetest kiss of all. 



Slender maiden, at the gateway, 

Shy, sweet face and downcast eyes, 
Two fair trembling hands imprisoned, 

Swift each golden moment flies ; 
Lips that softly press thy forehead 

All the rosy blushes call; 
For a lover's kiss at evening 

Is the fondest kiss of all. 
91 



92 KISSUS. 

Happy wife, thy noble husband, 

More than half a lover yet, 
For those sunny hours of wooing 

Are too sweet to soon forget; 
On thy smiling mouth uplifted 

Tenderly his kisses fall ; 
For a hiisband's kiss at parting 

Is the dearest kiss of all. 



Weary mother, little children 

With their dimpled hands so fair, 
O'er thy tired face passing lightly, 

Soothe away the pain and care, 
Lead your troubled thoughts to Heaven 

Where no dreary shadows fall ; 
For the kiss of little children 

Is the purest kiss of all. 













OVKl; LU* AND CHEEK AND FOKEHEAD LIKE A SHOWEK, CARESSES FALL. 



Two Pictures. 

SUNSET. 

A BALL of fire suspended 
Low o'er a molten sea; 
Infinite glory blended, 

Lost in eternity. 
A vivid crimson paling 

With pencilings of gold; 
A white cloud outward sailing, 

Foam billows fold on fold. 
A quivering, throbbing rapture, 

Eed torches flaming high ; 
A thousand waves that capture 

Pale rose-tints from the sky ; 
A lesser glory, blending 

With blue more faintly blue, 
A rosy light ascending 

To pierce all distance through. 
95 



96 TWO FIC TUBES. 

Commingling tints grown fainter, 

A "dim fire," burning low, — 
Ah, never skill of painter 

Can mix the colors so ! 
A mellowed beauty lingers, 

A curtain pearly gray 
Is drawn by unseen fingers 

Across the face of Day. 



Gone the resplendent wonder,— 

God's glory passed away, 
We stand the gray sky under 

Beside a sea of gray, 
And sigh because life's story. 

Like sunset's fleeting kiss. 
Tells tales of transient glory, 

Lost rapture, vanished bliss. 



SUNRISE. 

Silence profound, then faintly 
Low throbbings in the air; 

A presence holy, saintly, 

Hushed voices breathing prayer, 



TWO PICTURES. 97 

A wavering light uncertain, 

A soft glow, spreading wide; 
A dusky, sombre curtain 

Drawn suddenly aside; 
Pale rays of rare completeness 

Far down the sky's dim lawn, 
Moist lii)s of rosy sweetness 

Upraised to kiss the dawn ; 
A wondrous burst of rapture 

From bird-throats swelling long, 
"Which echo elves recapture 

And flood the earth with song. 

A richer color showing, 

A flush across the gray, 
A deeper carmine glowing, 

Night shadows rolled away ; 
A gleam of polished silver, 

A glow of burnished gold, 
A liquid mass of splendor, 

A glory manifold; 
A royal car suspended. 

Hung swaying in the blue. 
The grand cor'nation 's ended 

And rose-tints fade from view. 



98 TWO PICTURES. 

0, liiiman heart grown tender 

With thought beyond all speech ! 
This sunrise scene of splendor 

No human art can reach 
Eevives hope's blessed story, 

Bids faith ascend on high, 
And view eternal glory 

Wliere rose-tints never die. 



How THE Flowers Came. 

♦rTAWAS seed-time in Heaven; the angel whose care 

X Is for Eden's blossoms, — that angel more fair 
Than all her fair sisters, twin spirits of air, — 
That angel whose footsteps, wherever they tread, 
Spring up into blossoms blue, yellow, and red, — 
That angel whose tear-drops, wherever they fall, 
Give birth to white lilies, the fairest of all, — 
That angel whose breath is the perfume of flowers, 
Had spent all the jewel-gemmed paradise hours 
Of the roseate morn where beauties unfold 
In calyx of crimson and purple and gold. 



Beside the great portals she paused and looked through, 
Down, down the vast distance of star-lighted blue, — 
Beheld the gray rocks without beauty or bloom. 
And sighed for earth's children away in the gloom. 

99 



100 HOW THE FLOWERS CAME. 

" No beauty or bloom have the children of woe ; 
No brightness, no sweetness; my hand will bestow 
One heaven-born seed for their garden below," 



She said as she loosened her girdle to find 
One seed which was fairest, and best of its kind. 
Her eager hand trembled, the girdle slipped through 
Her rosy-tipped fingers, and down through the blue, 
Down, down the vast distance, her golden seeds flew. 



Some caught in the crevice of rocks, others fell 
In lone desert places, by wayside and dell; 
On hills and in valleys, in forest and glen. 
To gladden and brighten the journeys of men 



At the portals of heaven, with sorrowful face, 
The little flower-angel looks out into space 
In search of her treasures. Her tears, as they fall, 
Find all her lost seedlings, and water them all. 



Bemember the Alamo! 

THE WAR-CRY AT SAN JACINTO, TEXAS. 

TWO student lads one morning met 
Under the blue-domed Texas skies ; 
Strangers by birth and station, yet 

Youth's heart lies close beneath youth's eyes. 
A thousand miles lay 'twixt their homes, 

Watered by many a crystal stream ; 
Dame Nature reared a thousand domes, 

And spread a thousand plains between. 
They met, clasped hands, scorned bolt and bar. 

Which cautious age puts on the heart; 
Shared room and purse, then wandered far 

By quiet ways and busy mart. 
By San Antonio's winding stream, 

Through narrow streets, the two lads passed, 
Saw antique ruins, like some dream 
Of ancient times. 

101 



102 REMEMBER THE ALAMO. 

They came, at last, 
Where the Alamo's moss-grown walls 

Stand gray and silent in the sun. 
Where'er its sombre shadow falls 

Is hallowed ground, — more sacred none ! 

Within its portals stood a man 

Like some grim shadow on Time's shore, 
Gray as the walls about him, and 

Like them a memory, nothing more, — 
A page from out the deathless past ! 

Through film of years and rising smoke 
From his old pipe he saw at last 

The stranger lads, then gravely spoke: 

"Come you to worship at our shrine, 

The shrine o' Texas liberty ? 
Or come to speed the work o' time. 

An' mar these stones grown dear to me? 
Eome had her heroes, so have we; 

I don't know what the big word means. 
But this is our Thermopylae, 

An' matches Eome's for bloody scenes. 
My story ? 




' COME VOU TO WORSHIP AT Oim SHRINE, 
THE SHRIXE O' TEXAS' LIBERTY?" 



REMEMBER THE ALAMO. 105 

"'T is n't much to tell, 

'Twas more to live, but e'en that seems 
At times a sort o' misty spell, — 

A somethin' shaped from dreamin' dreams. 
An' then again 'tis wondrous real; 

I seem to see the smokin' plains, 
I hear the cannon's roar, an' feel 

The young blood rushin' through my veins ; 
For I was with Sam Houston there 

At San Jacinto. All the tricks 
That sneakin' Mexicans will dare, 

An' did, we paid in '36. 

"We were three brothers. Brother Jim 

The tallest, stoutest o' the three, 
Then me, hot-headed, next to him. 

An' Will was mother's pet, you see ! 
For Will was slender, like a girl. 

Brave to the heart an' true as steel; 
An' me an' Jim, 'long side o' him. 

Were not much 'count. 

"The past seems real 
Enough just now. My eyes are dim, 

Grown weak with years. Well, lads, we three 



106 REMEMBER THE ALAMO. 

Shouldered our muskets. Brother Jim 

Was here with Travis. Will an' me 
Heard how our Texas heroes fought 

With death behind an' death before, 
To right an' left o' them, an' naught 

But death when they could fight no more. 
It fires my blood to think o' it, 

The desperate scene comes back to me, 
How, like wild beasts trapped in a pit 

They fought, as round 'em surged a sea 
0' swarthy faces, black with hate 

Like their black hearts. 

" Six thousand strong 
They swarmed about, nor wall nor gate 

Nor rifle-shot could hold 'em long. 
Like flies about a pot o' sweet, 

Like savage fiends let loose from hell. 
Like starvin' wolves in sight o' meat, 

They filled the place. 



"There Crockett fell, 
Here Bowie, on his dyin' bed 
Was butchered, so was all o' them. 



REMEMBER THE ALAMO. 107 

This room was filled with Texans dead, 
The bravest, truest, best o' men." 

The old man paused. Low drooped his head; 

Upon his breast his beard lay white. 
"These dead men nerved our arms," he said, 

" For somethin' more than human might. 
Will Hushed up when he spoke Jim's name; 

There was n't time for weepin' then, 
But in his eyes I saw the flame 

That burns the softness out o' men. 

"We were at Colita. Mayhap you 

Have read the story ? Fannin's men 
'Gainst fearful odds surrendered. True 

Their numbers sort o' scart us then, 
But later we forgot all fear. 

An' fought like men gone sudden mad. 
They wrote their own death-warrant here, 

But it was signed at Goliad. 
Yes, we were prisoners, confined 

At Goliad, but soon to be 
Sent home, an' so we didn't mind 

Our prison-walls, for Will an' me 
Still had each other. 



108 REMEMBER THE ALAMO. 

"That last night 
"We, a right jolly set o' men, 
Sang 'Home, sweet Home,' with all our might, 

An' talked o' home like boys o' ten. 
I reckon that with home so near 

An' mother, too, we grew a bit 
Soft-hearted. Will dashed off a tear 
Quick like as if ashamed o' it, 
An' me — 

"Well, mornin' came, an' we 

Was ordered out. The air was sweet 
With scent o' flowers. I seem to see 

The posies noddin' at our feet. 
As their wee faces nodded there 

Beside the Mission walls, where we 
In long lines stood with freezin' blood 

A-waitin' for the liberty 
They promised us. My God ! it came 

Too soon ! 'T was home we 'd thought about, 
An' wife an' child, but not the flame 

0' death that let our life-blood out. 
One wild thought o' the future, then 

A flash o' fire an' nothin'ness. 
Shot down like dogs. Three hundred men 

Sent home ! 'T was murder, nothin' less. 



REMEMBER THE ALAMO. 109 

"All day I lay still feignin' death 

Among the dead, an' when the night 
Came down, I searched with pantin' breath 

For Will's dead face, in the dim light. 
Yes, lads, I found him where he fell, 

An', kneelin' 'neath the starry skies — 
Mayhap 'twant soldier-like, but — well 

I choked, an' somethin' filled my eyes. 



" I can't tell how I got away. 

I reckon angel wings swooped down. 
An' sort o' hid me night an' day, 

For eyes were peerin' all around. 
An' / was saved. I don't know why, 

Unless God sent an' drafted me 
From 'mong the dead to start the cry 

That gave us Texas liberty. 
How did it end? 



"No Texas lad 
Would ask me that. I reckon you 

Came from the North? Well, lads, we had 
Our 'counts all ready, what was due 

Us marked in figures plain, then we 



110 REMEMBER THE ALAMO, 

At San Jacinto took our pay, 
The price we set was Liberty; 

An' it was paid that very day, 
An' they were two to one of us; 

But we went in for vengeance then. 
The Alamo dead stood side of us, 

An' gave each man the strength o' ten. 
The plan o' battle? 



"I can't tell. 

My brain, somehow, forgets the plan, 
But white flowers turned to red where fell 

Each sneakin', savage Mexican. 
The debt o' blood we paid in blood: 

' Bememler, hoys, the Alamo!' 
Fired every Texan where he stood. 

An' nerved his arm for deadly blow. 
We whipped 'em, lads, an' Liberty 

Was born, that day, through fire an' smoke. 
This one old comrade 's left to me." 

He lit his clay pipe as he spoke. 



HisTORiCAii Notes. 

" Remember the Alamo ! " tells its own story ; and to those who have lived 
within the shadow of the Alamo's historic walls the poem will be sufficient for 
itself, but to those whose hearts have never thrilled with the story of Texas blood- 
bought freedom, to whom its history is not familiar, these explanatory notes, together 
with a few historic facts, gleaned from " Thrall's History of Texas, " will be neces- 
sary for the more perfect understanding of those "truths which are stranger than 
fiction." 

The Alamo is appropriately called the "Thermopylae of Texas." Here Travis 
and his heroic band re-enacted the part performed by the brave Spartans nearly 
twenty-three centuries before. 

Santa Anna having gained a decisive victory over Governor Garcia, to the 
total destruction of the republican party in Mexico, began preparations for the 
subjugation of Texas. 

On the 22d of February, 1836, a portion of the invading army reached the 
Alazan creek, a little west of the city of San Antonio, when Colonel Travis, with 
one hundred and forty-five effective men, retked to the fortress of the Alamo. 

February 23, about noon Santa Anna arrived in person, and sent a summons 
to the Texans to surrender. It was answered by a cannon-shot. In Travis's 
despatch, sent by a courier to Goliad, he said : " I shall never surrender or retreat." 

For ten days the siege continued with unabated fury. On the tenth day Travis 
sent out a courier with this message : " I have held this place for ten days against 
a force variously estimated at from 1500 to 6000, and I shall continue to hold it 
till I get relief from my countrymen, or I will perish in its defence." 

Ill 



112 HISTORICAL NOTES. 

Travis now despaired of succor, and after declaring his determination to sell 
his life as dearly as possible, and drawing a line with his sword, Travis exhorted 
all who were willing to fight with him to the last to form on the line. With one 
exception all fell into the ranks, and even Bowie, who was dying with consumption, 
had his cot carried to the line. 

Sunday, March 6th, witnessed the fall of the Alamo, and the brutal slaughter 
of its brave defenders, for the feeble garrison could no longer hold out against 
such overwhelming numbers. Travis fell early in the action, shot with a rifle- 
ball in the head. The body of Crockett was in the yard, with a number of Mexi- 
cans Iving near him. Bowie was slain in his bed. The sacrifice was complete ; 
every soldier had fallen in defence of the fort. 

The battle of Colita, with Colonel Fannin commanding the Texas army, resulted 
in their surrender. With no adequate protection against the enemy's cannon, in 
an open prairie, without water, surrounded by an enemy of five times their number, 
the Texans were in a desperate condition. They sm-rendered as prisoners of war, 
with the agreement that they were to be sent to Copano, and thence, in eight 
days, to the United States, or as soon as vessels could be procured to take them. 

The prisoners were taken back to Goliad and confined in the old Mission. 
All were cheerful in the prospect of a speedy liberation. While they were enliven- 
ing their prison, on the evening of the 26th of March, in singing 'Home, Sweet 
Home, ' an order arrived from Santa Anna for their immediate execution ! 

On the morning of the 27th, Pahn Sunday, without warning, and under the 
pretext that they were starting for home, they were marched out, and when a short 
distance from the walls of the Mission were halted and shot! The most were 
instantly killed, some who were only wounded were despatched with sabres, and 
a few, by lying still and feigning death until dark, escaped. 

The memorable battle of San Jacinto, April 25, 1836, and the happy results 
for Texas which followed, will live forever in the hearts of Texas' children. Once 
again the Texas army, commanded by General Houston, and numbering only 783 
men, were in deadly conflict with the INIexican troops (General Cos commanding), 
who defied the nearly disheartened Texans with a force of upwards of 1500 men. 
Once again the tide of battle turned against the Texans, when the cry of " Remember 
the Alamo!" rang out above the shrieks of the dying, the clash of artillery, and 
the tumult of battle. It fired despondent hearts, renewed the courage of faltering 



HISTORICAL NOTES. 113 

ones, and inspired every Texan soldier's arm for deadly blows in vengeance' name. 
Not one in all that band of dauntless men but had cause to X'emember the Alamo 
and the massacre at Goliad. 

"With the war-cry of " Remember the Alamo ! " surging up from their hearts, 
and leaping from their lips, they rushed with furious frenzy iipon the enemy, and 
gained a glorious victory, which secured immediately the establishment of the 
Republic of Texas. 



The Last ^N^ight. 

THEY stand in the shadow which darkly falls 
When the Day-god sleeps in his glory, 
Shut in by the gloom of the Alamo walls, 
Those heroes who live in Fame's story. 



Hunters and planters and miners are they, 
Giant-builded and iron-hearted, 

Unconquered, undaunted, they stand at bay 
When their last faint hope has departed. 



They are stern of visage and dark of brow. 
With a mist in their eyes grown tender, 

For memory " troubles the waters " now 
In the heart of each brave defender. 



There are dear wife hands reaching out to them, 
There are sweet childish voices calling ; 
114 



THE LAST NIGHT. 115 

Love pierces the hearts of these stalwart men 
As they stand in the night-shades falling. 

The valley is dark with a living host, 

The hills with their presence are teeming, 

By their camp-fire's glow like a spectral ghost 
Each tent through the shadow is gleaming. 



With bare, bowed heads in the hush and the gloom 
Mid their sad regrets and their sorrow, 

They wait for the flush of the "day of doom," 
To crimson these walls on the morrow. 



Without are curses that burden the night, 
Where the enemy fumes and rages. 

Within they are kindling fires to light 
Texas homes through all coming ages. 

0, thou blood-bought shrine of a nation's pride ! 

Thou altar of love and of glory ! 
Thou Alamo ! swept by a crimson tide, 

Live ever in song and in story ! 



